


A Phalanx of White and Red

by HoodieTheEdgequeen



Category: Statera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodieTheEdgequeen/pseuds/HoodieTheEdgequeen
Summary: Just a short story I wrote for a small RP universe, nothing special, mostly for friends. I do hope you enjoy!Wanna join the RP verse? Here!: https://discord.gg/HupBn9v





	A Phalanx of White and Red

**Author's Note:**

> Discord for the universe: https://discord.gg/HupBn9v
> 
> Come say hi!

Lheo was so, incredibly, indubitably, impossibly, terrified. Nothing felt right. His armor was a combination of heavy steel plates, carved with magical wards and tough kevlar with the same wards meticulously stitched into the fabric.

In his left hand was a wood and metal shield, emblazoned with the ‘Freedom’ logo that all the Angels in every direction of him had as well, a spiral cloud struck through with a bolt of lightning. In his right hand he held spear, long and hardy, with a curled metal tip designed to rip and tear through flesh like a drill. Yet slung over his back at the same time was an automatic rifle, and on his belt were an extra quarter dozen magazines for it.

Nothing felt like it matched, new weapons and armor, designed by Mortals to survive themselves, combined with the raw stopping power of steel and wood of older days. Lheo felt like he was displaced in time, not in the right place or location or when or where. And yet, here he was, wearing a mismatched garb of misplaced time periods jumping feet first into hell - literally.

The Angels he was with stood on the brink of a Gateway. Gateways were rarely used by Angels, magical portals that would take them anywhere to the corresponding gateway. But few Angels left their home-city. Why would you venture away from your haven in the clouds?

But now, five thousand Angels, armed to the teeth and carrying powerful Mortal weaponry combined with Angelic magic were standing at the edge of such a gate, prepared to march through and embrace the Chaos of the Demon realm.

Lheo was a armsman and a backup Phalanx member. His job was to slot the weapons he was handed in between the holes of the frontal Phalanx’s shield wall and fill the air with fire. He had been trained to have a rifle fire next to his ear without flinching, to brace against the strongest charge of a raging Feral, and yet here he was, trying not to quiver with fear.

The Gateway opened, a swirling vortex of purple. One of the sergeants - another title stolen from the mortals - held up his hand and called out. “Forward, march!” Down the line of soldiers, another sergeant echoed the order, then another, and another. The soldiers began to march, the sound of boots on stone filling the air.

They came through in the Demon realm, a place with a crimson sky and a never ending city made of crumbling buildings and ruins. There was always blood on the walls, it just depended how much. It was as close to hell as the older scriptures said it was.

Lheo saw another line of soldiers marching through a different Gateway, and another past that. Ten Gateways had been summoned, priests sitting at the edge of the massive archways, channeling faith and magic to keep them powered.

After a few hours, all of the troops had been shuttled through, standing in a rough square. “Wings, release!” the sergeants called. A number of Angels unfurled their wings, attendants already coming to fit defensive metal plates to them. As each Angel was armored, they flew upwards into formation, and by the end of it, there was a large cube of floating Angels, with another group still on the ground, a thousand Angels in total.

Lheo was part of the ground layer. “Listen up Beta Platoon!” the Sergeant yelled at them. “We have been tasked with establishing first control of an area 2 miles south of here! Alpha Platoon will be accompanying us, and Epsilon will provide fire support with their artillery! Foxtrot and Delta Platoons will be arriving later as reinforcements once they establish a base of operations, at this location!” he shouted out.

Lheo new the plan, it’d been shouted and drilled into his head a hundred times before. Get to the attack location, kill the Demons, establish a proper base of operations. Gradually move forward and eliminate all the Demons. Simple.

“Beta Platoon! Proceed!” the sergeant yelled, pointing to the south.

 

Lheo and his platoon walked for a good while, the Angels on the ground replacing the tiring ones in the upper layers of the ‘Battle Cube’ as many of the other soldiers were calling it. It was sort of how like birds would fly in a V-formation, swapping out the tiring ones for new ones. Lheo would’ve found that funny, given different circumstances.

How in the world had he gotten himself into this mess?

Lheo could already smell the increasing scent of blood as they approached the warzone. They’d been trying to hold the area for months, sending small groups of soldiers as often as they could as reinforcements, trying to push the Demons out of their established base. But the Demons weren’t giving up easy. Every pack leader they killed just had another to replace it, an endless horde of teeth and claws and death.

But now, now there was an army. The Soldiers who had been fighting for their lives every day would have hope, have something to cheer for…

At least, that’s what Lheo prayed for.

“Hold!” the Sergeant yelled out. Everyone, even the ones flying, limited by Inertia, froze in place. “Form up!” he yelled. Instantly, the entire cube tensed, shields pushing forward through the rank, a wall of wood and steel locking together in an unstoppable barricade.

Over a ridge, not too far away, a small Demon poked it’s head over the crater-stained hill. It had pure white eyes, and a head like an imps. It cocked it’s head to the side in curiosity, before being suddenly smashed into the ground by a single, skeletal foot. A massive demon, 35 feet tall, covered in protrusions and spines of bone, yellow ecto-organs glowing beneath it’s ribcage, ripped itself over the landscape.

4 Legs and 4 arms scrambled on the ground as it’s disgustingly dog-like head, snapped back and forth, tongue showing between the gnashing of razor bladed teeth. It let out a horrible, feminine laugh, eye lights narrowing as they focused on the White Phalanx. It clambered to it’s feet, then with a roar that sounded hideously like glee, leapt forward at the Phalanx.

At the call of it’s roar, a hundred other Demons of all shapes and sizes, flood over the ridge, following the creature they called ‘master’.

“Launchers! Pull forward!” said the Sergeant. The insides of the Cube shifted, people passing launchers forward. Lheo felt the heavy, cold weight of the explosive filled metal tube land on his shoulder. He pulled it forward slightly, hands barely trembling, completely filled with the pure rational thought that had been trained into him.

The barrel of the weapon stuck through the Phalanx, joining several dozen others. He aimed down the crossed sight, taking his target, the massive Demon running towards them.

He heard the order. “Fire!”

The sound of death filled the air in the form of a hundred rockets igniting in their tubes, flying towards the swarm of Demons, obliterating some, maiming others. Bones and flesh sailed from where the Rockets impacted. The massive Demon was turned to shrapnel, it’s bones so thoroughly obliterated the only thing left was shards. Ecto-blood and real blood stained the Phalanx’s shields a rainbow of misery.

And yet, the magic that coursed through all the Demons had not diminished. Even as some lie as puddles of flesh, as others lie only missing an arm, none had died.

“Finishers! Fire!” the Sergeant yelled. Four dozen points of light lit up between the cracks in the Shields, beams of light sailing out towards the remains of the Demons. The Dark magic of the Demons vanished the second they made contact, their souls being obliterated by the power of the Angels.

Any Demon left sane stared at the power the Angels had mustered. Some turned and ran, some lost their sanity, blindly charging the Phalanx, only to be cut down by rifle fire and obliterated by the Finishers.

Finisher. A nasty title. The most powerful, old, and skilled Angels to be mustered, capable of channeling their essence, their very Soul, into light magic. They were the ones to kill, and they were the ones who died a little every time they did.

Lheo and the other green-horns stared at destruction before them, the shards of bone and half-maimed corpses on the field before them. In a single strike, they’d wiped out an entire nest of Demons, master, children, and servants.

Someone next to him nudged him on the shoulder. “Holy shit did you see that? We killed all of them! That was incredible!” they said, not taking their eyes off the battlefield.

Lheo could only nod. He felt disgusted, horrified by what he’d seen. And yet, underneath that pit of despair, that traumatization, the murder of so many creatures he felt…

Pride. Pride at having stayed calm. At having listened. At having won.  
After all, he had signed up for this. What was there not to be prideful about?


End file.
